Many moons ago, okay it was just a year and a half ago, I wrote a five part series about being a professional dominatrix and working with an escort agency.
The Final Chapter of the Secret Life of a Professional Domme
If it were 2018, I would have called him Trump
I have a bit of an interesting follow-up to share, that I had quite frankly, thought nothing about writing, until I was going back through those stories yesterday. And it hit me.
In the final article, I talk about my “favorite” client, Nathaniel. I mentioned that for a time, after he was no longer my client, I would check on his social media to see if I had the impact on him I had hoped. And it seemed like I did, publicly at least.
Last year, I briefly worked for a local country store owned by a couple. I recognized their last name immediately, as it was the same as Nathaniel’s. At the time, I wasn’t aware it was one of the more common names in this county; I’m not from here, I don’t know all the family names around here.
But my husband does.
He informed me not too long after I started there, that their name is pretty “big” around here. They own a lot of property, are a huge part of the “good old boy” network, etc. Oh, really? I chuckled, and then full on belly laughed.
I definitely got some side-eye for that one.
I went on to explain the Nathaniel connection, and revealed his real name to my husband. He just stared at me, blinked, stared, blinked. At one point, I was convinced he turned into a fish. Finally, I asked him if he was having a stroke.
He said no, but you might. I asked why? He said well, “Nathaniel” is your boss’s brother. Well I really lost it then.
It couldn’t have been two days later, I’m working the counter, and in walks Nathaniel.
I’m pretty sure he wanted to die. He kind of shuffled around the store, taking his time, waiting out the customer that was getting ice cream. Once we were alone, he came right up to the counter.
“How are you here?”, he asked.
“I work here. Don’t worry, your secret is still a secret.”
He just sighed. He asked if I would mind going on the porch and sitting down with him for a moment, since the store wasn’t busy. Being a cute little country store, we had a porch swing and rocking chairs, perfect for conversation. I’m pretty sure they’d never bore witness to conversation the likes of this one.
He carefully sat on the swing as I eased into the rocker. Much to my surprise, he quietly began to cry.
As he wiped the tears from his cheeks, he began to speak. He told me that his experience with me had changed him. That he hated himself before, hated the thoughts that constantly flowed through his mind, and rather than explore those thoughts and act on them, he allowed them to come out as hate against those who were like him.
I asked him what made him take the chance to meet me in the first place, and he said he felt like it was the safest bet, to release some of the pressure on his mind. And that it did. He’s still not out to anyone, but he has been seeing a therapist. He’s left the church where he was a deacon for so long, and began attending services at a more modern assembly. One who has programs for at-risk LGBTQ youth, where he volunteers.
My experiences working with an escort agency were varied, some good, some fantastic, some shitty as hell. This story, had the happiest ending I could have imagined, and one that I least expected.